Que Sera, Sera
by Primrue
Summary: Hermione Granger was many things before she met Tom Riddle. But she wasn't a killer. Theme based on the movie Heathers(1988). One-shot, Complete!


**A/N: Do not read this if you don't want the movie Heathers (1988) spoiled for you.**

 **If you don't really care or have already watched it, please enjoy!**

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

* * *

 _Dear Diary,_

 _My teen-angst bullshit now has a body count._

 _-Veronica Sawyer, Heathers (1988)_

* * *

Hermione Jean Granger was many things.

A daughter.

A straight-"A" student.

A friend.

Hermione Jean Granger was many things, but one thing she wasn't was a killer.

Yet.

* * *

It was another sunny day at Hogwarts High.

Hermione was sitting in the library studying in preparation for her next chemistry test. Although a typically studious student, she was even more thorough than usual when it came to chemistry. Their teacher, Severus Snape, was a real pain in the ass.

 _The most common isotope of hydrogen is protium, which is 1 proton and 0 neutrons._

She was copying the information into her notebook, when a hand slammed down on the table. The hand was pale and freckly.

"Damnit, Ron! I'm busy!"

She looked up at the face of Ron Weasley. He was rolling his eyes at her.

"You spend too much time in the library, 'Mione."

She pushed his hand away, trying to finish writing the sentence down. "And you don't spend enough time in here. Hi, Neville," she added to the boy standing behind Ron.

"Hi, Hermione," he said.

Neville Longbottom wasn't necessarily bad looking, it was just that his shy nature took away some of the charisma he could have had. Where Ron was loud and reckless, Neville was timid and careful.

There was, however, one person the reckless redhead listened to.

"Harry is looking for you," said Ron.

Hermione closed her book with a sigh. "What is it this time?"

He made an impatient face. For him, having Harry Potter call on you was reason enough.

"He didn't say, he just wanted me to haul your ass over."

"Charming," she said with a snarl, but collected her things nonetheless.

They walked towards the cafeteria, also known as the Great Hall. What a joke. Sure, it was big, but no part of it was great. It was ancient, with furniture that would give in to the bottoms weighing them down, any day now.

Also, whoever came up with the idea of having four long tables instead of regular sized ones, needed to jump off a cliff.

The tables only added to the rift between the different cliques.

Harry Potter stood by the one furthest to the right, also known as the Gryffindor table. The Gryffindor were the cool kids table. The one where the jocks and cheerleaders sat.

One might not think it, but despite his demeanor, Neville was a respected male cheerleader. And Harry and Ron were on the Lacrosse team. Harry, the star, of course.

Then you had the usual Football jocks. Cormac McLaggen, Seamus Finnigan and Ron's little sister Ginny, to name a few.

The Gryffindor's were the cool kids.

As with anything, there was one exception, of course. Hermione herself.

"There you are," said Harry. His messy, dark hair and green eyes made many girls swoon. Hermione wasn't one of them.

"What do you want, Harry?" she said.

He adjusted his red, expensive, brand-named shirt. The Potter's were a very prominent family, owning not one, but two mansions.

"Drop the attitude, Hermione," her best friend said. "I know I dragged you out of your precious library, but this is important." He pulled a pen and paper out of his pocket.

"I need you to write a love letter to Myrtle in Cormac's handwriting. And make it steamy."

"Seriously," Hermione hissed, while Ron and Neville stood behind her giggling. "I don't have anything against Myrtle, Harry."

"You don't exactly have anything for her either," he said. "C'mon, it'll be hilarious. And you're doing her a favor. This'll be closest thing she'll ever get to have a boy touching her."

She narrowed her eyes at her best friend. A moment later she held out her hand. "Fine."

"Brilliant," he said, mimicking an English accent. He turned to Ron. "Ron, Hermione needs something to write on. Bend over."

Ron, being powerless against the Boy Wonder that was Harry Potter, reluctantly hunched forwards.

Hermione glanced between the boys in disbelief. She took the paper and began writing.

Then, suddenly, she felt as if someone was watching her.

Her head snapped up and she looked around.

It wasn't unusual for people to be looking at them, they were the most popular group in school. But something about this felt different than the other times to her.

"C'mon, 'Mione, my back is starting to hurt."

She let it go and finished the letter.

 _God, forgive me for this._

When she was done, Harry surveyed her work, while Ron rubbed his back. Harry pushed his glasses up the ridge of his nose and nodded approvingly.

"This will be perfect," he said. "Neville, sneak it onto her lunch tray."

The male cheerleader did as he was told, and discreetly placed the note on the tray of a girl that passed them. She was skinny, had her oily hair tied in childish twin tails and her face was full of pimples.

The group observed as she went out of the Hall to eat in the bathroom.

"We're all going to burn in hell," said Hermione.

"Oh, stop being so dramatic," said Harry. He smiled at his friend. "Now, will you help me ask some questions around? It's for a psychology study I'm doing for Trelawney."

Knowing that school work was her weakness, Harry had won before even asking the question.

"Sure," she said.

Ron and Neville went to join Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, while Harry and Hermione strode over to their other tablemates.

"Hello, girls."

Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, the biggest airhead cheerleaders around, giggled.

"Hi, Harry," said Parvati.

The two of them had gone on one date when Parvati and Harry had been fourteen, but she still seemed to think she had a shot.

 _Pathetic…_

He gave them his million-dollar-smile and proceeded asking them if they would help him with his psychology project.

"Sure," said Lavender, twirling a blonde lock of hair around her finger. "What's the question?"

"If you were given a billion dollars today, but found out the Cruciatus virus would break loose in two days, killing everyone, what would you do with the money during the time you had left?"

 _If I had known this was the question, I would have never agreed to help him,_ Hermione thought and mentally groaned at her friend's stupidity.

"Oh, wow," said Lavender and pushed her eyebrows together, thinking hard. "I would probably use it to throw one big party, before we all die, you know?"

Harry scribbled it down, nodding approvingly.

Parvati cleared her throat. "And _I_ would use every single cent to feed the starving children in Africa."

Hermione had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. "You're such a beautiful soul, Parvati," she said and backed away before they could figure out the words were drenched in sarcasm.

Again, she felt someone's eyes on her. She looked around and caught the stare of a boy, sitting at the Slytherin table. The table of the losers, the creeps. The people who were rejects everywhere else.

While Ravenclaw was the table of brainiacs, and Hufflepuff the table for potheads, they still were above Slytherin.

But this boy looking at her…

He was her age, sixteen, and a new student. She'd heard Principal Dippet introduce him a month ago at assembly. Apparently he had transferred from another school because of his father's work.

It felt strange to her that he would be sitting at the Slytherin table. He had piercing blue eyes, fair skin and delicious dark curls, hanging neatly down one side of his forehead. With those looks, he could easily outrun Harry for most popular boy in school. But then, there was this mysterious air around him, and Hermione guessed that most people must find him intimidating.

He raised one of his elegant eyebrows at her, and she realized she must have stared back at him longer than she thought.

She blushed and stumbled into someone's chair at the Ravenclaw table.

"Oh, sorry," said Hermione, her attention now fully on the person she knocked into.

"That's quite all right, Hermione," said Luna Lovegood.

Luna's friends looked at them curiously.

"Hi, Luna. How are you?"

The blonde girl, fiddled with one of her radish earrings. "I've been well, thank you. I was sad you couldn't make it to my birthday party last week, but your mother said you were on a date, so I understand."

Hermione bit her lip in guilt. Yes, she had been on a date, with a college football player, Viktor Krum, but Luna had been her friend since they were eleven. "The date didn't go too bad, but I don't think there will be a next time, so I actually wish I would have gone to your party instead."

The girl smiled. "That's nice. Maybe, next time-"

"There you are," interrupted Harry. He gave Luna an annoyed look, before dragging Hermione away.

"Hey, I was talking to her!"

"Oh, please, you can talk to Loony Lovegood all you want later," said Harry. "But right now, you have to help me, remember?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Can't we at least ask some other people than fellow Gryffindor's? How are you supposed to get a valid result if you only ask the same type of people?"

Harry pondered this for a moment. "Okay, I guess you're right. Who do you have in mind?"

After ten minutes, they'd asked around eight people from other tables. Nine, if you counted a very high Hannah Abbott, but since her answer had only been the word 'Pigfarts' they decided not to include her.

They had just finished questioning Draco Malfoy at the Slytherin table, when Hermione felt the stare for the third time that day.

The boy from before was looking at her, seated at the other end of the table, and without really knowing why, Hermione approached him.

"Hello," she said.

He gave her smirk. "Hi."

"So, you're new, huh?"

"Very observant."

"Shut up," she laughed.

He grinned. "I'm Tom. Tom Riddle."

She let her eyes take in his appearance. He was clad in dark jeans, a tight white t-shirt and a leather jacket. His body looked so lean and elegant, she was surprised he wasn't wearing a nice Oxford and a vest. Riddle, indeed.

She became very aware that he noticed her looking. She blushed and wanted to punch his smug grin off his face. "Nice to meet you, Tom."

"Likewise. You another one of those Gryffindor's?"

"Perhaps. But most people just call me Hermione. Hermione Granger."

"Hermione." It looked like he was tasting her name on his tongue.

They were interrupted when a deep, booming laughter filled the room.

"Are you kidding me?" shouted Cormac. He was waving a piece of paper around, while Myrtle stood next to him, mortified.

"'I want to hear you moan my name'? As if I would write shit like that to someone like you. Get out of here, _Moaning_ Myrtle."

The other jocks around him laughed.

"Oh, no," said Hermione as Myrtle ran out of there, crying. No doubt fleeing to her usual sanctuary, the bathroom.

"Excellent work as always, 'Mione," said Harry as he walked up to her.

She looked at her best friend, disgusted.

"I never wanted to write it, you made me."

"I never made you do anything, mate," he shrugged.

The lack of remorse on his face made her stomach turn. "I need to leave." She turned to Tom. "Bye."

He nodded. "See you later."

* * *

"They should throw his ass into jail," said Harry from the driver's seat.

"They were blanks, Tom didn't shoot anyone," said Hermione.

They were driving to a college party Harry had gotten them into. Hermione squirmed in the dress she was wearing, sitting at the front with her best friend.

"He brought a gun to school. The guy's insane, 'Mione. I don't like him."

"You don't like anyone, Harry."

"Not true. I like you."

"You like it when I do your homework. There's a difference."

He didn't answer, but pulled over to a convenience store by the road. There was a cheap, neon sign that said 'Three Broomsticks'.

"Get me some nuts while I get gas, will you?"

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Yeah, I heard it. Just hurry, please. I don't want to be late."

Hermione sighed. "I know, I know. Your hot date will be there."

"Cho Chang isn't just hot, she's super-hot."

Hermione got out of the car, shaking her head at her friend's libido.

 _Speaking of libido…_

She had just entered the store and spotted none other than Tom Riddle, standing by the refrigerators.

 _He's even sexier than I remember…_

And that was just his back. He hadn't turned around when she came in.

Nevertheless, when she walked over to stand next to him, he showed no sign of surprise. Instead, he struck up a conversation, without looking up from the bottle he was holding.

"What the hell is 'Butterbeer'?"

Hermione giggled. "Don't have them where you're from?"

"Can't say that they do, and that's saying a lot, since I've been pretty much everywhere."

"So I've heard. Your father's work, correct?"

"Correct. Ten points to Gryffindor."

"I told you, it's not Gryffindor, it's Hermione."

He looked up, his blue eyes locking onto her brown ones. The end of his lip tugging upwards. "Hermione."

Her stomach clenched.

 _Is he always staring at people this intensely?_

They were standing pretty close, and she could fully appreciate the long lashes now, along with his full lips and the smell of tobacco and sandalwood. The scent was intoxicating.

Her heart beat faster.

"I-I've got to hurry. I'm supposed to go to this party at Slughorn College."

His mouth formed into a sneer. "Very exclusive."

"Well, Harry knows a lot of people."

"Well, Potter would. Money gets you a lot."

She didn't appreciate the way he spoke about her friend. Never mind how handsome Tom was, Hermione was nothing if not loyal.

"This has been nice, but I should be going," she said, paid for a packet of peanuts and left the store.

A cool, slender hand caught hers. "Wait."

She stopped, but refused to turn around.

"I'm sorry if I offended you by talking badly about your…friend."

Hermione scoffed and faced him. "No, you're not."

He smirked. "Nonetheless, it wasn't very gentlemanly of me."

"No, it wasn't."

"I was under the impression, though, that you weren't really blind when it came to Potter."

She couldn't argue with that. "I know that Harry uses his money and family name to get his way…and he can be such an asshole sometimes." She frowned. "Well, all of the time."

Tom chuckled.

"I actually don't really like my friends," she admitted.

"Want to know something weird?" said Tom. "I don't really like them either."

They stood there, holding hands, and Hermione couldn't fathom how this guy she only started talking to today, managed to make her admit something she herself had been in denial with for the past year.

"I heard about the stunt you pulled today," she said, not being able to take the silence any longer. It was too intimate, and Tom had started rubbing circles with his thumb on her hand, which made her blush profusely.

"They deserved it."

She snorted. "I don't doubt that. McLaggen and Flint are idiots. And they bully everything in sight. To be honest, I'm kind of glad you did it."

A smile tugged at Tom's lips. "Really?"

"Well, sometimes justice won't come on its own, and you have to take the matter into your own hands."

"Sounds like you have a lot of experience in the matter."

She gave him a mischievous look. "I might have 'accidentally' set my chemistry teacher's coat on fire, freshman year. He wouldn't stop bullying Neville for being a male cheerleader…And he made fun of my hair."

She regretted telling him the last part. Maybe he hadn't noticed her messy hair before, and all she'd done now was bringing attention to it…No. No one could possibly miss her big, curly hair. It was impossible. But the thought that he might find it off-putting made her slightly sad.

Tom raised the hand that wasn't holding hers, and twirled one of her curls around his long fingers.

"Can't imagine why he would do that."

If she wasn't blushing before, she sure was now.

A car horn sounded.

Hermione turned and noticed Harry was sitting in his car, looking extremely annoyed.

"Duty calls," she said as she turned back to Tom.

He let go of her hand and she told herself she didn't miss it already. Tom swung one of his legs over his motorbike.

"Then I guess this is where I say good bye. Have fun at the party, "he added and smirked.

She raised her chin, but couldn't fight the grin escaping her lips. "Oh, I will, Mr. Riddle."

He shook his head, laughing, and put his helmet on.

 _At least he's not stupid_ , she thought, and found the fact that he was wearing one, rather attractive.

"See you later, Hermione."

* * *

"Fuck you, Harry. Go to hell!"

"Real mature, Hermione. Kiss you mother with that mouth?"

Hermione wiped the pieces of food off her face. Once the contents of her stomach had got out, she suddenly felt energized.

"I can't believe you left me alone with that creep Wood!"

They were standing in an ally, party music booming on the other side of the wall.

Harry crossed his arms. "And I can't believe you puked on Cho Chang. Like she didn't already hate you before."

"I'm sorry if I disturbed your make-out session, but I was feeling bad, and you wouldn't listen!"

"It's not just about that, Wood is telling everyone what a downer you are, so guess if I'm going to keep being invited?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, what an inconvenience I must be. But why not just throw your money at this as usual. Have daddy pull some gold from his bank account."

Harry's eyes narrowed in anger. "I can't believe I let you hang with us. You were nothing before me, just another bookworm hanging with Loony Lovegood. I'm done with this charity, come Monday, I'll tell everyone about this. You'll be an outcast again."

Hermione let out a growl. "I can't believe you! I can't believe I ever thought we were friends."

Harry scoffed. "Friends? Please. All anyone ever wants from being with someone else are perks. They want to gain as much as they can from each other."

Hermione blinked away the tears that threatened to escape. "And that's what you did with me, isn't it? You gained yourself a homework-maker."

His cold smile told her more than enough.

* * *

Hermione had just flung her diary at her bedroom wall, when Tom stuck his head in through the window.

"Bad time?"

She gaped at him.

"Nevermind the fact that I'm currently in my cat-patterned pajamas, and that it's one o'clock in the morning; what are you doing here?"

Tom shrugged. "Would you believe me if I told you I was in the neighborhood?"

"Probably not."

"Then I'm here to play chess with you." He swung his long legs into her room, and she now saw he was holding a travel chess set. He held it up. "Move around a lot and you've got to have one of these," he said.

"You're lucky my parents are out of town this weekend."

"Lucky, or very good at planning?" he said, as he made himself comfortable on her bed, setting up the chess pieces.

Hermione laughed and joined him. "Lucky. My father would kill on sight if he caught an unknown man in his daughter's room."

"I think you underestimate how charming I can be."

They were now sitting opposite each other, and she got to inhale that scent of his again.

"I underestimate nothing. He would probably make it a quick death with you."

The corner of his lips twitched.

The chess game quickly turned into a competition, and Hermione was too impressed by his strategic moves to concern herself with being alone with a stranger in the middle of the night.

Although being no match for him, Tom seemed to be impressed she almost managed to keep up. It didn't take long, however, for him to win.

"I want a rematch," said Hermione.

Tom chuckled. "I obliterated you, Hermione. I doubt much will change if we battle again."

"I was close to checkmating you that one time! Come on, one more game."

He licked his lips. "All right, one more time."

Hermione smiled triumphantly.

"But only-" Her smile fell. "if we make it interesting this time."

"What do you mean interesting?"

"How do you feel about strip-chess?"

Heat rose to her cheeks. "No way."

"Are you just saying that because you know you'll lose?"

"No. I can take you any day."

He leaned over the chess board, his face dangerously close to hers, and said, with a very husky voice:

"Prove it."

* * *

"I'm not saying it."

"Oh, but that was part of the deal," Tom reminded her.

"Still not saying it."

He kissed her naked shoulder. "Are you going back on your promise?"

"I just don't see why it matters," said Hermione and leaned into Tom's chest.

"It seemed to matter greatly to you, when I was taking off my shirt."

She turned her head. "That's because I thought I was winning."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Fine," she sighed and swung her whole body around, trying to not think about how close his face was. "Tom Riddle, you are the master of chess, the lord of strip-chess and I am your humble servant forever. Happy?"

He kissed her forehead. "Ecstatic."

Hermione grabbed hold of his perfectly-cut jaw and steered his mouth down to hers. He responded by putting his hand on the small of her back, pushing her closer against his chest. She bit his lip and he moaned in surprise.

When Tom pulled away, she was breathing heavily, but still searched his eyes, asking him why he stopped.

"I realized," he said, gasping slightly less than she was, "that I never learned why you were so upset earlier."

Earlier? What had she been upset-Oh! Her whole evening with Harry replayed itself in her mind and her previously good mood was out the window.

"I had a fight with Harry- turns out, he was just using me to do his homework for him."

She wasn't sure, but it looked like Tom's eyes had flashed red for a moment.

 _Of course they can't be flashing red, don't be silly…_

"Oh," he said, any sign of his earlier anger gone. "That's…vile."

"Yes, I was pretty disgusted too. I was actually thinking about getting him back for it somehow, but I don't know how."

"What do you say we drop by tomorrow, and pay your friend a little visit?"

"You can't be serious? He would never let us in-although, I do still have a spare key…"

"There you go, perfect solution."

"But what should we do? I kind of want something more than just putting a whoopee-cushion under his ass. But also less dramatic than pulling a gun with blanks in his face."

"We'll think of something."

* * *

"A mix of orange juice, toothpaste and milk? I thought you said you didn't want to go tame?"

"This is in no way tame, have you ever had orange juice after brushing your teeth?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Well, then you should listen to someone more experienced than you on the matter."

Tom chuckled and continued roving the shelves. The kitchen in the Potter mansion on Godric's Hollow Street was huge, and it held a lot of stuff.

"How about we give him some of this?" Tom held up a can of bleach.

"I want to prank him, not kill him."

"But it would be so easy, we pour it into a cup," he filled a cup with the blue liquid. "and then we dare him to drink it. Potter's so stupid and 'brave' that he'll do it without a question."

Hermione strode over and put down her cup next to his. She looped her arms around Tom's neck. "What a criminal mastermind you are, Mr. Riddle."

"Don't you forget it," he murmured against her lips.

She let go of him and grabbed one of the cups. "Come on, let's get some revenge and then celebrate at home."

Tom glanced at the cup she was holding. "Yes, let's hurry and give Potter what he deserves."

* * *

"What the hell?" Hermione shrieked.

"I don't know," said Tom.

On the floor lay Harry Potter. Dead.

"What did you give him?"

"I didn't give him anything, you handed him the cup."

Hermione looked at the broken shards of porcelain lying on the carpet. They were stained blue.

Her eyes widened in realization. "You! You made me take the cup with bleach!"

Tom raised his hands. "I didn't make you do anything, you would easily have smelled it, but you still gave it to Potter. You wanted this."

"I did not! I'm not the one pulling guns on people!" Hermione slumped down in an armchair. "Oh, god, I'm going to have to go to jail instead of college…"

Tom took a deep breath. "What if-What if this was a suicide?"

She waited for him to explain, hoping he had a solution.

"What if we write a letter," Tom continued. "and in it, we have Harry explain he was miserable and life was meaningless to him- you understand what I mean."

"I-I do. But how would we-of course, I can forge his writing."

They began writing Harry's suicide letter.

"…and I wish to at least be remembered not just as a boy who existed, but a boy who lived."

Hermione looked at Tom as she scribbled that last part down.

"You're really good at this, done it before?" she joked. She wasn't sure how she managed, but something must've snapped in her brain.

Tom avoided her question, but an amused glint was seen in his eyes. "I think that should do it, don't you?"

Hermione sighed. "Yeah."

* * *

School on Monday was chaos. People were devastated that the most popular boy in school was dead.

Miss Trelawney pulled Parvati and Lavender aside during lunch to explain that their reaction was perfectly normal in face of tragedy. They in turn asked her questions about what could possess someone to end their own life, even though that someone was 'so hot and handsome'.

"Man, Harry was such a nice dude, you know," said Cormac while Ginny patted his shoulder.

"I know, I kind of had a crush on him, wish I'd told him sooner. Maybe my love could have motivated him to stay alive."

"Don't blame yourself, Gin. Never," said Dean.

Hermione tried not to gag. Was no one going to mention Harry harassed almost everyone in school?

She thought she'd be more sad, but to be honest, she was relieved.

"You sure sprung up an appetite," she told Ron.

He was golfing down chicken wing after chicken wing. "I know, it's weird, I just feel really hungry all of a sudden. Maybe that's what grief does to me?"

Neville, meanwhile, hardly touched his food.

"Oh, my god. Ron!" Hermione said as she realized what he was wearing. "That's Harry's red shirt!"

"Took you long enough," said Neville. "It clashes so horribly with his hair, I'm surprised you didn't notice it sooner. You must truly be devastated."

"Er, yeah. Harry's death hit me hard." She turned back to Ron. "What are you doing wearing his shirt?"

The boy shrugged. "Dunno, just thought it would be mine now. I was his best friend after all. I don't think he'd mind. Found it in his locker anyways, so he mustn't have cared much for it."

She couldn't believe her ears.

Hermione caught Tom's eyes across the Hall and noticed he was smiling.

* * *

"You know, maybe we should use this time to lean on each other," said Cormac.

Hermione was busy putting her books back on the shelves and really had no patience for his advances. "Oh, yeah," she said. "And by 'lean on each other', you mean 'fuck', right?"

Cormac smiled. "Not exactly how I would have put it, but yeah."

She tried going around him, but he put his arm in the way, using the shelf for support.

"Move, McLaggen."

"But I'm so comfortable here," he pouted.

"Move or I'll make it hurt."

"I like it when you're feisty-OW!"

Hermione kicked his shin and ran away.

The next day, Hermione overheard Parvati whisper to Lavender: "…and they did it, right there in the library."

"No way!"

"Yes, way! And- oh, don't look, she's right over there."

Hermione cleared her throat. "Hello, girls. What's the gossip this time?"

Lavender giggled. "Why don't you ask McLaggen? Or better yet, why don't you tell us yourself, you were there too after all."

"Was where?"

They giggled and she had to fight the urge to pull their hair out by the roots.

Parvati rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, don't act innocent. We heard about you and Cormac getting it on in the library."

"What?!"

* * *

Tom had to hold himself from laughing when Hermione called Cormac that night. The girl was a natural.

"Oh, yeah, I've always wanted to have a threesome with you and Flint…Mhm, yep, Marcus Flint."

She was silent as she waited for the guy on the other end to speak. "Eight will be great. See you then."

She hung up.

* * *

They were at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, waiting for the jocks to arrive.

"Okay, so you remember the plan, the bullets are 'Avada Kedavra' bullets, which means they aren't lethal. It'll leave some blood at best."

Hermione nodded.

When Cormac and Marcus arrived she made them strip and as they waited for her to do the same, Tom stepped out from behind a tree and shot Flint in the chest. Hermione pulled the trigger on Cormac and laughed.

They heard people coming and hurried to leave the note they'd prepared, explaining Flint and Cormac's forbidden love, by their unconscious bodies.

They were in her car, parked nearby, when Tom suddenly pulled her close. His kiss was hungry, rough, and his hands moved as if he couldn't get enough of her.

Hermione loved it.

* * *

"Did you hear about Cormac and Marcus?" asked Ron as he, Neville and she were out on her patio eating ice-cream.

Hermione had to stop herself from laughing. "No? Has something happened?"

"Apparently they were madly in love, but didn't think people would approve so they killed themselves."

"Wh-What?"

* * *

"'Avada Kedavra' bullets? I'm so stupid! You lied to me, Tom!"

"Don't try to pin this on someone else again, Hermione. You're not an idiot. You knew what you were doing." He stepped close and grabbed her arm when she tried to step away. "Admit it. You. Liked. It."

"No. This is wrong. What we're doing is wrong! We can't just kill people because they're assholes, Tom. That's not how the world works!"

"Isn't it? What do you think the death penalty is for? And even if we didn't have it, isn't the world a better place without repulsive scum like McLaggen who tries to force himself on women? Who's to say he wouldn't succeed with the next one he cornered in a library?"

Hermione avoided his eyes. "It's still wrong."

He took her jaw with his hand and kissed her.

And she forgot what they had been arguing about.

* * *

Miss Trelawney had reached an all time low.

Hermione had never liked the teacher, but to call the teve-station over to the school and have them film the students sing 'kumbaya'?

Disgusting.

Rita Skeeter tried putting the prettiest ones in the front.

Tom and Hermione sat with Myrtle in the back.

"Greetings," he told the pimpled girl.

* * *

Hermione and Tom were seated on his family's leather sofa. They were watching the broadcast on the small teve. It seemed like Ron had made it a point to get a long interview about Harry's life.

"We were best 'mates', as Harry would have said. He loved doing the English accent."

Hermione groaned. "Honestly, Ron! What an idiot."

Tom kissed the top of her head. "Couldn't agree more."

Tom's father stepped by the living room. "Hello, son! I nailed it at work today! We blew up the apartment building we've been after for a week now."

"That's great," said Tom, all emotion washed away from his face.

"Do you even like your father?" asked Hermione when the middle aged man was away.

"Never given it much thought," he said. "I liked my mother. She died a long time ago, though."

The Weird Sister's song, "Die like a Gryffindor" started playing and Hermione wasn't sure when he brought it out, but Tom was aiming his gun at teve and pulled the trigger. The machine gave a loud blast and she watched as it toppled to the floor.

"That's it," she said. "We're done."

"What?"

Hermione rose to her feet. "I can't do this anymore. I can't be with some trigger-happy guy that tries to distract me with kisses whenever I'm bringing up a valid point-"

Tom pulled her close and gave her a deep kiss. "Doing this won't bring them back," he said when they parted.

"I know." She stepped out of his embrace. "But it will bring _me_ back."

* * *

Luna was picking at the grass. "You know, I was very surprised when you called."

Hermione laid on her back, soaking up the sun beams. "You shouldn't. I like hanging with you, Luna. I missed you."

"That's nice. I missed you as well. I know I might not be as exciting as your other friends, but-"

"Don't say that. You're the best, Lovegood."

Hermione opened her eyes to see the blonde smiling at her.

* * *

Ron didn't even knock before entering her bedroom.

"'Mione, you won't believe it," he said. "Moaning Myrtle tried to drown herself in the bathroom."

Hermione dropped the book she was holding. "Oh, my god! Is she- is she all right?"

Ron snorted. "Of course she is, she couldn't even do that right. The popular kids commit suicide and the losers try to imitate."

Hermione slapped him.

"What the hell was that for?"

"You were being an asshole." She frowned. "But I'm sorry."

He rubbed his cheek. "You're acting as if me being an asshole is news."

Hermione couldn't help but grin. "Yeah, yeah."

The radio had been playing some Celestina Warbeck, when Lee Jordan's show began. "Today, we're getting some callers on the air," said Lee. "Hello, first caller, what can I help you with?"

"Ehm, yeah, hi," said a familiar voice.

"Bloody hell, is that Neville?" said Ron. "Turn it up, Hermione!"

She was as curious as her friend was, so she did.

"Hello! Who's this calling?"

"It's Ne-I mean, Trevor. My name is Trevor."

"What can I do for you, Trevor?"

"I just want some advice. My friend just died and I keep failing in every class. I was supposed to be captain of the cheerleading team. And my parents both need therapy…"

* * *

Ron let everyone know about Neville's phone call the next day in school.

 _I might have gotten rid of Harry, but it seems Ron was just waiting to take his place…Red shirt and all…_

It was during math with Mr. Vector that Neville finally had it with the whispers and jabs. He stormed out. Hermione followed him.

She found him in the men's bathroom. Hermione didn't mind walking in, she'd been there before.

Neville had just been about to pop some pills into his mouth when she tackled him.

"Hermione, what are you trying to do? Kill me?"

"What are you trying to do? Sleep?"

"Suicide is a private thing," Neville said.

"Neville, you're throwing your life away to become a damn statistic! Nothing good will come of this."

"Oh, yeah? What about Harry, Cormac and Marcus? They're more popular and loved now than when they were alive!"

Hermione sat down next him. "If everyone jumped off a bridge, would you?"

"Probably."

They both sighed.

"Want to go grab a butterbeer or something?"

"You would be willing to skip school for me, 'Mione?"

"Of course. We're friends."

* * *

Ron was lounging by an open window on the third floor.

"Hermione," he said when she approached. "I suppose you heard about the petition? It's great, I've got almost every student to sign."

"Yeah, I heard about the petition. Although, the reason for it seems to vary. Malfoy seemed to be under the impression that it was to keep people of color out of school, while Cedric Diggory told me it was to send the entire class to watch the Knicks play. What are you up to, Ron?"

"Some people just needed different kinds of convincing than others. Look, you should just sign the petition too, okay? It's for the library to be rebuilt."

"Don't talk to me like that, Ron. What are you really-"

"I don't know either. Look, it was Riddle's idea, all right?"

Hermione blinked.

Ron sneered. "He didn't tell you? Well, maybe the two of you don't so much talk as fuck-"

Hermione slapped him again.

"Damnit, 'Mione!"

"Why can't you just be my friend, Ron? Why do you have to be such an asshole? "

He raised his chin. "Because I can be. Now I'm going to have to put some ice on this, thank you for that, by the way."

Hermione glared daggers at his back until he disappeared around a corner.

"Promising young man, don't you agree?"

Tom stepped out of the shadows.

"Hello," Hermione said and crossed her arms.

"Care to join me for dinner tonight? We could catch a movie, take a ride on my bike, anything you want." He circled around her and Hermione found it hard to breath. One of his arms draped itself around her waist, while his other hand brushed her hair behind her back.

"How about we pour some bleach down Ron's throat too?"

"Now you're talking, I could be up for that." She felt his hot breath against her neck and it tickled wonderfully when he chuckled. "I knew you'd come back to me."

He trailed kisses down her throat and Hermione saw stars. She gathered all her strength to push out of his arms.

"It's over, Tom. I told you, I'm done."

"I don't understand," he said, looking impatient. "You were wrong and I was right."

She gave him one sad, lingering look and walked away.

"I'll see you later, Hermione," he shouted after her.

* * *

The note was simple, but after reading it, she needed no more clues as to who sent it.

 _Recognize the handwriting?_

And despite it being her own style of writing, she knew Tom had been the one to forge it.

He was going to stage her suicide.

Unless, of course…

She did it first.

* * *

She heard him climb in through her bedroom window and Hermione held her breath.

The sheet was tied around her stomach, but she had covered it with her big hoodie and made it look like she hung herself around the neck. Hermione hoped her limp body would be enough to convince him.

"What did you do, Hermione?"

It took all she had to not open her eyes. He sounded so broken.

 _But he's a psychopath_ , she reminded herself. _He's manipulative and evil_.

"I can't believe you did it," he continued. "I was only teasing. I _loved_ you."

 _Don't listen to him, Granger…_

"Granted, I was coming up here to kill you."

 _And there you go…_

"I had hoped to first win you back with my petition, though. You never did find out what it was for, did you?" Hermione heard him begin to pace around her room. "It's a shame you can't see what our fellow students were really signing." There was a rustle of paper and Tom cleared his throat.

"'We students of Hogwarts High will die today. Our burning bodies will be a final protest against the society which degrades us. Fuck you all.'"

Tom stopped reading off the paper. "The last part might be a bit on the nose, but I figured it would only be appropriate given the juvenile youths our school undoubtedly possess. And it goes well with blowing up the entire school, wouldn't you say?"

Hermione didn't respond, of course, and she wondered what he was doing when he suddenly got quiet. She hoped he wouldn't touch her, her pulse would give everything away. Although, she doubted he would want to leave fingerprints anywhere.

"Damnit, Hermione. We could have watched the world burn together."

And with that, he left.

* * *

Hermione hurried to school the next day. She knew Tom had access to explosives from his father's job, but she still needed to find out where he had hidden them.

Then she saw Neville pass her by, dressed in his cheerleading outfit.

 _The gym…_

The whole school would be gathered in the gym for the pep rally.

She ran to the door which led to the Boiler room. She noted someone had doodled with a marker on it, 'Chamber of Secrets'.

 _Funny…_

She tried to open the door as silently as possible. Her pulse was throbbing in her ears. She hoped this would work. Tom was much taller and physically stronger than her.

It was lucky she'd kept the gun he'd given her when they shot Cormac and Marcus.

She found him kneeled down by one of the machines, fiddling with a bag.

"May I see your hall pass?"

For the first time since she'd met him, Tom Riddle looked startled.

His eyes widened as he took her in. "I knew that noose looked too loose." He smiled. "Goddamn you, woman."

She kept her gun pointed at him.

He sighed. "There's no need for that," he told her. "Shoot me, and the bombs will still go off. I have seven planted around the room. You won't find them in time."

"Just tell me how to turn them off and we both walk out of here. I know you, Tom. You like living."

His smile never faltered. "Indeed, I do."

Then he did something she hadn't expected, and lunged at her. The gun fell out of her hands and skidded across the room.

She was struggling under him, and he pushed his lips onto hers. She tried to wrench her face away from him, and elbowed him in the chest somehow. He growled and grew even more persistent. His hips pressed against hers and she felt it.

"You're disgusting," she screamed.

He paid her no attention, but silenced her with his kiss. What used to make her knees go weak only fueled her rage and she kicked her legs around until they found its target.

"Oof," came his muffled grunt. For good measure, she also punched his nose in. She rolled him off of her and hurried to grab her gun.

"Tell me where they are, and how to turn them off," Hermione yelled.

He pointed to one of the pipes and she saw a pack of dynamite was taped to it.

"I lied. You take out that one and they all shut off," Tom groaned, trying to look dignified while in a fetus position.

There were numbers on it that she had to press to shut it off, she knew. But what would the code be?

The display showed that she only had thirty seconds left.

"Tell me the code," she demanded.

Tom laughed. "For something to end, it would first have to start, right?"

"What bullshit is that?" said Hermione. Tom only kept on chuckling.

 _For it to end, it would have to start…but of course…_

She pressed the numbers 3-1-0-7.

 _Harry's birthday…_

The countdown stopped and Hermione sighed in relief.

* * *

When the police arrived, leading Tom away, Hermione got a better look at his face.

It looked like he had slits instead of a nose. He wasn't as handsome anymore. She laughed. Served him right.

"'Mione, you look like hell," said Ron.

Hermione looked away from the snake that had ruined her life. The ginger standing next to her raised his eyebrows at her growing grin.

"Yeah, I just got back." She kissed him on the cheek she'd slapped so many times, and skipped away, leaving him even more perplexed than before.

"Hey, Myrtle!"

The dark haired girl turned around on her crutches. "Yes? What do you want?"

Hermione smiled. "I just wanted to know if you wanted to hang out. I'm kind of single now, and I need some girl time. What do you say?"

Myrtle smiled. "I'd like that."

Hermione took her hand and together they walked out of the school.

It looked like just another sunny day at Hogwarts High.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you for reading! Please review!**

 **/Primrue**


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